


And My Axe

by Northern_Lady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Future Fic, LOTR reference, One Shot, Rape Recovery, Rare Pairings, sansa the hero, slightly OOC, tv version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5833171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Lady/pseuds/Northern_Lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon has returned to Winterfell to rescue his sister and take back his home. He brings many of his  friends including Tormund. Ramsay fled in battle, but Sansa doesn't trust that her husband is truly gone for good. One shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And My Axe

Jon’s sword dripped red with the blood of Roose Bolton. The battle was over. Roose was dead and his bannermen were in retreat. Jon didn’t care to go after them. He only cared to find his sister Sansa. She was there somewhere. She had to be. They let Jon into Winterfell easily enough. With Roose dead and Ramsay fled, the former man of the Watch was the rightful heir of the castle and those inside the walls knew the truth of it. However Sansa. was nowhere to be found. After hours of searching one of the servants sought Jon out to tell him that Sansa had run away with Reek some days ago and had apparently been in the company of the Baratheon men Stannis had left behind. The men had just arrived at the gates to return her home to her brother. 

Jon tried not to run to the gates. His pace was quick and anxious. A light snow was falling as he entered the courtyard. A party of men waited in the center, all dismounted from their several horses. And there, amongst them was a hooded young woman. Tendrils of red hair fell from her hood even as the falling snow covered them with white. 

“Sansa?” He almost choked on her name. 

She let down her hood. Her eyes were more blue than he remembered. There was a bruise on her jawline but she was still the sister he remembered, older and taller and more beautiful than ever before. “Jon.” She said, in nearly a whisper. Then she ran to him and he hugged her close, thankful for having found her at all. 

It was a long while before they let each other go. By the time they did the courtyard was cleared of all the people and it was only the two of them, covered in snow, alone. 

“It’s cold.” Jon said, taking her arm. “Your clothes are soaked. We should get you dry clothes and a meal. Then we can talk.” 

Sansa smiled at his concern. “You must be cold and hungry yourself.” She said, taking note of his bloodstained clothes. “Is that Ramsay’s blood?” 

“No...Ramsay fled in the heat of battle. This blood is Roose’s, among others.” Jon told her wearily. 

“I hope none of it is yours?” She asked, suddenly concerned for him. 

“I’m fine Sansa. I’m just tired.” He told her reassuringly. 

They made their way to what would have been Ned’s old solar. Sansa went into the adjoining bedchamber and changed into the clothes that had been sent there for her. She found Jon again minutes later in the solar. He had changed into dry clothes himself and was sitting down to the meal the servants were laying out. 

“How did you come to be outside with Stannis men?” Jon asked her as they sat down to eat. “I expected I would find you inside as the lady of Winterfell should be.” 

“I ran away.” Sansa told him sadly. 

“Why?” Jon asked, looking up from his bowl of stew momentarily. “I mean, what happened to induce you to leave Winterfell?” 

Sansa looked stricken and she hesitated to answer Jon’s question. “Surely, you must have heard rumors about Ramsay even at the wall?” She finally said. 

“I heard that he was brutal in battle. That he flayed his enemies. He was not known for his kindness… but he would at least be courteous with his own wife...wouldn’t he?” Jon said, the implications of her question finally hitting him. 

Sansa shook her head. “No, he was not kind to me.” 

“What did he do to you?” Jon asked, dreading to hear the answer. 

Sansa shook her head again. “It is enough to say that he was not kind. I’d prefer not to speak of it….Instead, perhaps you could tell me how you came to be Lord Commander of the Watch?” She asked amicably. 

“I’m not Lord Commander anymore. I left all that behind by coming here. By dying and being brought to life and coming here. But I’ll tell you the story nonetheless.” 

They ate and talked for most of the evening before exhaustion began to catch up with them. Then they retired to sleep, Sansa in her mother’s old chambers and Jon in the Lord’s rooms. In the following days word came that Jon’s claim to Winterfell would be accepted by king Tommen if Jon would swear fealty to the king. Jon did not make an immediate decision on that bit of news. Word also reached them that several of Ramsay’s men who had fled the battle had been seen nearing the Dreadfort. It was assumed that Ramsay was among them. 

Jon paced the halls and corridors of Winterfell late at night. He had to make a decision about whether he would swear fealty to king Tommen or not. If Stannis Baratheon had been correct (before he died), King Tommen was a bastard with no claim to the throne. Ned Stark had been executed in an attempt to hide the truth about Queen Cersei’s bastard children. Would swearing fealty to Tommen somehow negate Ned’s death? Did it really matter who was even king anyway? Tommen had been raised by King Robert, should his status as a bastard keep him from being king if he was truly a good king? Had it been Joffrey they wanted him to swear fealty to, Jon would have easily decided against it, but Tommen he was less sure about. Did he really want to bring more war on the land by refusing to bow to the South? As he thought on these things, he walked the halls. 

Jon heard footsteps coming and was shaken from his thoughts by the sound. He turned to see Tormund Giantsbane approaching. Tormund had followed him to battle and was his guest at Winterfell. 

“Jon,” Tormund walked to him rather hurriedly. “Come quickly. It’s your sister.” 

Jon followed after him back towards his rooms. He rounded a corner and there was no need to ask what had happened. Even from outside Sansa’s door they could hear the screams. 

“Her door is locked.” Tormund explained. “I thought about breaking it down.” The big wildling said. Jon had placed Tormund in a room next to Sansa’s. This way she was between himself and someone he trusted to keep her safe by night. 

“No it’s… “ Jon pulled the key from his pocket, leaving his words unfinished as he unlocked her door and let himself in. Tormund stayed in the doorway and watched as Jon went to Sansa and woke her from her nightmare. 

Sansa sat upright with a gasp. She took a look around at Jon near her bed with his hand on her shoulder, at Tormund in the doorway and the concern in his eyes and she burst into tears. 

“Sansa?” Jon didn’t know what to do with her in this state. “What can I do?” 

Sansa seemed at as much of a loss as Jon was. 

Tormund sighed from the doorway. “You really do know nothing Jon Snow! Fetch your sister some warm milk if you want to help her.” 

Jon rose from the bed and headed for the door. Sansa watched him wide eyed. “Jon wait.” She said gently, her voice tinged with fear. 

“I’ll only be a few minutes. Tormund will keep you safe. You can trust him.” Jon told her as he all but fled the room. 

Sansa watched Tormund warily for a moment before he spoke from his place in the doorway. “You’ve been having nightmares for a fortnight now. My room’s just on the other side of yours. I could hear you, but never so loudly as tonight. Jon told me your father was a good man so it has to be either the Lannisters or your Bolton husband that gave you these nightmares.” 

“It… it was both.” Sansa admitted. 

“I met your husband in battle.” Tormund said. “He fights like a wildling. He gave me this.” Tormund pulled back the furs on his shoulder to reveal a stab wound that had been stitched shut. “If a man like him can injure the likes of me, I hate to imagine what he could do to someone like you.” 

“Someone like me?” She squeaked, unsure of his meaning. 

“A woman. A lady.” He said with a shrug. “Everyone knows that the women of the free folk know how to fight and go into battle. No one talks about the ones that can’t fight so well. We have women who are just women, mothers, daughters, sisters...the ones that don’t fight, we protect them. And when our menfolk hurt a woman just for being a woman, usually someone kills him. If you tell Jon whatever it was that Ramsay did to you, he will hunt him down and kill him, I know it. Jon’s not so different from my people. There would be no need to be afraid anymore. I’d kill the bastard myself for that matter…” 

“I don’t know if I can talk about it.” Sansa said. 

“It’s not all that hard to guess what happened anyhow.” Tormund said. “Man like that…. he raped you, he didn’t allow you any freedom, he hurt your friends, found ways to humiliate you…” 

“How did you know?” A few tears slipped from her eyes. 

“I’ve seen his kind before. The only solution for him is an axe to the skull.” 

“Do you have an axe?” Sansa asked him, hope in her voice. 

At that Tormund laughed. He pulled an axe from his belt. “Indeed I do. If I see your Ramsay Bolton I’ll be happy to use it on him.” 

“Good. Please do.” 

Tormund nodded, his eyes filling with sadness. “If you have nightmares again after this I could knock on the wall to wake you.” He offered. 

Her eyes met his with relief. “Yes, that would help a great deal, thank you.” 

Jon returned to them then with a mug of warm milk for Sansa. The following night Sansa was awakened from her nightmares by a knocking thumping sound on the wall of her chambers. She gasped for breath and after her breathing had calmed she called out loud. 

“Tourmund? Are you there?” 

“I’m here.” He replied. 

“Do you still have your axe?” She asked him. 

“I still have my axe.” He told her. 

That became their routine for several nights. Sansa would have nightmares, Tormund would wake her, and she would ask about his axe. It reassured her to know that someone else who hated Ramsay was looking out for her. It made her feel safer. Jon wasn’t far away either. His room was on the other side of the solar adjoining her room but he couldn’t hear her at night and he hadn’t expressed any desire to see Ramsay dead. 

By day Sansa wandered the castle and the grounds freely. At first she didn’t notice she was being followed but on the fourth day she caught sight of the big red haired wildling following her at a distance. She had almost reached the godswood. She turned and found him twenty feet away, half hidden behind a tree. He wasn’t really trying too hard to hide and he stepped out into plain sight when he saw that she had found him. 

“Tormund?” She asked as he approached her. “What are you doing?” 

“If I’m gonna get a chance to use this axe on Bolton, it will only happen by sticking close to you.” Tormund told her. 

“You think Ramsay will come after me?” Sansa asked, frightened at the prospect. 

“You and I both know he won’t let you go so easily as running off to the Dreadfort for good.” 

Sansa nodded anxiously. “I know.” She agreed. 

“Jon doesn’t know anything about men like Ramsay. He doesn’t know how they think. I told him you needed someone to keep you safe but he thinks you are already safe at Winterfell. So I mean to stay close until Ramsay is dead and is no threat to you anymore.” Tormund said. 

“You want to be my shield?” Sansa asked, eyes wide. 

“I’ll not go swearing any fucking vows if that’s what you mean, but yes, I’ll be your shield for now.” 

“Why would you do that? Is it because Ramsay wounded you?” She asked, no longer naive enough to believe that any man was truly chivalrous or would guard her purely for her own sake. 

“Aye, and because you’re pretty and what man wouldn’t want to follow around a pretty woman all day? And because I’ll not be able to forgive myself if I fail you like I did my own sister. She had a man like Ramsay. A cold man who only lived to enjoy other people’s pain. No one knew what he was until it was too late...I killed him and I thought I’d seen the last of him until I saw his hateful eyes again in the face Ramsay Bolton. The same fucking eyes…” 

“You don’t think…?” Sansa began. 

“No. I don’t think that the man I killed lives in Ramsay. Nothing as crazy as that. I only know that I’ve seen his kind before and I’ll not stand by and watch it happen again.” 

“Then I thank you for being willing to help me Ser.” Sansa told him gratefully. 

Tormund made a face. “I’m not a Ser.”

Sansa smiled, remembering another man who refused to be called Ser. “Yes you are, or you ought to be.” She told him. True knights did not exist but men like Tormund and Sandor Clegane were the closest thing and she knew that now. “Knights defend the weak. If anyone deserves the title...I think you should rightfully be called Ser Tormund.” 

“Call me whatever you wish but I’ll not wear any suit of metal or swear any vows.” He shrugged. 

After that, Tormund followed Sansa everywhere she went. She jokingly called him Ser Tormund and amused by the joke he took to calling her m’lady. It seemed strange to watch them, the perfect lady and the wildling man who was twelve years her senior and the way they treated one another like old friends. At first Sansa was flustered by his language and the bawdy jokes he would tell. Tormund would only laugh at her blushing reaction and tell another joke. Until he understood that she didn’t understand his jokes about lovemaking because she had never been treated well by a man. 

“You never had a man who did that to you?” Tormund asked a flushed Sansa after he had told one of his indecent tales. 

“No...I… never had any man except Ramsay and he…” She stammered. 

Something softened in Tormund’s eyes. “It isn’t right. It isn’t right that a woman as lovely as you has never known pleasure. If the day comes that you ever want to know, I would show you. I wouldn’t hurt you...just show you…” 

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” Sansa told him gently, her hand on his arm. “But my memories already hurt too much. I’m not ready.” 

He nodded, understanding. 

Tormund never told those kinds of stories again. His words were still indecent as ever but less sensual. They spoke of many things, of Tormund’s family beyond the wall. Sansa learned that he’d once loved a woman who was killed by Wights. He had children with that woman who were now in the care of his brother. He hoped that they would come to Winterfell but it would be several months before his brother would get the message he’d sent, and maybe more before they could arrive. Eventually Sansa told him of her time in the Capital and of Ramsay and what he had done to her. The knowledge only made Tormund hate Ramsay all the more. At night they still spoke the same words through the walls of their rooms after her nightmares. 

Two moons passed before Jon truly noticed that Tormund and Sansa had become close. Jon had been so busy with his correspondence with the Capital, with his oaths of fealty and the rebuilding of Winterfell’s alliances that he’d not had time to notice what was going on around him. They were having dinner in the great hall. Sansa was seated across from Tormund, Jon next to her. Jon was paying no attention to the meal or the conversation. He was lost in thought about his responsibilities as Lord of Winterfell when he heard Tormund speak the words “wench’s cunt” followed by Sansa’s laughter. Jon dropped his fork and looked up at the two of them. They were laughing. Sansa looked happier than he had ever seen her. He had never known her to laugh at something so inappropriate. He would have never imagined she’d even speak to a lowborn wildling man like Tormund but she was speaking to him and apparently enjoying his company. What had happened while he had been so busy in recent weeks? 

Jon went to Sansa’s chambers immediately after dinner that evening. 

“What’s going on with you Sansa?” He asked as soon as she let him in the room. 

“What do you mean?” She had no idea what he was talking about. 

“I mean you and Tormund. I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with him. I’ll have a talk with him and let him know that it isn’t appropriate. He doesn’t know the way things are south of the wall...but I can hardly believe that you’re allowing such familiarity…” 

“Jon…” Sansa began, confused. “I thought Tormund was your friend…” 

“He is my friend. I would trust him with my life.” Jon said, ignoring whatever it was that she was implying. 

“But not with your sister’s life?” 

“Sansa...I...of course he is a great warrior… but this isn’t like you to be on familiar terms with people of lower birth, to laugh at obscenities that would make most ladies blush.” Jon protested. “It makes me think that Tormund has somehow charmed you to care for him. You should know that he won’t marry you. They don’t marry north of the wall.” Jon told her. 

Sansa just gaped at him for a moment before she spoke. “I do blush.” 

“What?” 

“I do blush at his jokes. That doesn’t mean I can’t find them amusing. Besides, I couldn’t marry him anyway. By law I’m still married to Ramsay.” 

Jon stared at her in shock. He had never thought to hear such words from her, or that she would imply her affection for a man not her husband. 

“So he has charmed you to care for him?” Jon asked in shock. 

“I suppose so.” Sansa admitted though she had not even known the truth of it herself until Jon asked her just then. “Jon, I’m not so innocent as you think. I know that he desires me. I also know that he will not touch me unless he has my permission. For all his wildling ways, he is a good man. He never lies to me. I like his company. I am glad he offered to be my shield. I feel safer for it.” Sansa told him. 

“There is nothing to fear here anyhow. Ramsay has been seen at the Dreadfort several weeks ago. It would be foolhardy of him to come back here now.” Jon told her. 

“Foolhardy is a word Ramsay is very familiar with.” 

Jon sighed. “Sansa, I won’t tell you what to do. Your choices are your own. Just tell me that Tormund isn’t taking advantage of you and I’ll let the matter rest.” 

“He isn’t.” She said firmly. 

“Fine then, Goodnight.” Jon said, backing out of her chambers. 

“Jon?” She called after him. He stopped. “I appreciate that you were concerned for my safety. For so long there was no one to be worried about me at all. Thank you.” 

“Sansa, I was worried for you even when I wasn’t there. I never stopped. I never will.” 

Tears sprang to her eyes and she hugged her brother before she let him leave for the night. Sansa found it difficult to sleep that night. Now that she had admitted to herself that she actually had feelings for her shield, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She knew she should be afraid of him, that she should have been afraid from the beginning but she also knew that not all men were like Joffrey and Ramsay. Her father had been a good man. The men in his household had been good men. Good enough that they would not harm a woman and that they took no pleasure in the pain of others anyway. Knowing that, it hadn’t been difficult to trust that Tormund would not hurt her. She didn’t know when her feelings had moved to something else. It had helped that he had been able to shock her with the things he would say. Being scandalized was a good distraction from her worries about Ramsay. Never knowing what Tormund would say next helped her not be anxious that Ramsay might be waiting around the next corner. Seeing the anger in his eyes when she told him what her husband had done to her had only made her trust him more. She hadn’t even known she cared for him until Jon pointed it out. She still didn’t know how it had happened. Tormund was not the southern night she had once dreamed of. He wore furs, his hair and beard were an unkempt mess, his words were obscene and inappropriate half the time, brutally honest the other half, and never courteous. By all rights she should dislike everything about the man. Yet she didn’t. Even now she found that she missed him. 

Sansa awoke some hours later to knocking on her wall. The dream had been a particularly horrible one. 

“Are you there Tormund?” She asked as usual. 

“I’m here.” 

“You still have your axe?” 

“I still have my axe.” He told her. 

“Good.” She said, with a shudder, unable to clear the nightmare from her head. “Perhaps you could come in here?” She asked. It was the first time she had ever invited him into her room. She heard him shuffling about in his chambers, then footsteps in the hallway, then he was at the door to her chambers. 

“You want me to come in there?” He asked as she pulled open the door. 

She nodded, “I think I might sleep better if you were here.” 

“You want me to sleep in your bed?” He asked her as he closed the door behind him. 

She nodded again, beginning to wonder if she had made a poor decision. 

“I can do that.” He said, taking note of the hint of fear in her eyes. “I’ll only sleep if that’s what you want. You need to learn to trust men sometime. It might as well be now.” Tormund leaned his axe against the wall near the bed and climbed in. 

“I don’t mistrust all men.” Sansa said as she joined him. 

“Of course you do. It’s nothing to be ashamed of given what was done to you.” He said. 

“If that’s true then why did I invite you in here?” 

“Every woman needs a man sometimes, even if she doesn’t know it.” He said matter of factly. 

“I do not need-” Sansa began to protest by Tormand silenced her with a finger to her lips. 

“I only meant that in spite of everything, you still get lonely sometimes, that’s all.” 

He took his hand away and Sansa found it difficult to speak. It wasn’t the first time he had touched her. There had been a few other occasions. She had stumbled once in the godswood and he caught her. Other times he had helped her down from a horse. Once he had taken her hand to help her walk up a steep hill outside of the grounds of Winterfell. Each of those times she had felt a certain sadness when it ended. This time was no different but it was the first time Tormund saw the sadness in her eyes. 

“If you want to sleep closer I wouldn’t mind.” He told her. “But I’ll not do anything unless you tell me to.” Sansa only hesitated for a moment before she slid closer to him and allowed him to wrap his arms around her. He smelled like furs and pine. He wasn’t wearing furs for sleeping. It was warm inside Winterfell. He wore a woolen tunic and breeches. Without all the furs Sansa discovered that he was more muscular than she had realized. She was as close to him as she’d ever been and somehow she wanted to be closer. Hesitantly she slid her fingers under the hem of his tunic and rested her hand against the bare skin of his belly. She felt his breathing quicken and she knew she was having an effect on him. 

“Is this okay?” She asked. “To sleep like this?” 

“Aye. It’s fine.” He told her. 

Sansa sighed contentedly and burrowed closer to him, falling asleep soon after. 

Tormund was half on top of her when she woke in the morning but Sansa only suffered a moment of panic before she remembered that she had invited him to her room. He was still asleep. One leg and one arm were thrown over her body and she had been pulled half underneath him as if he were trying to shield her with his body even in sleep. She smiled at that. He was too heavy to push off of her and she found that she didn’t really want him gone anyhow. Then someone was knocking on her door. 

“Sansa?” It was Jon. 

She tried to shake Tormund awake before answering her brother but the sleeping man would not be roused. 

“Sansa are you alright? You’ve slept through breakfast.” He was saying from the hallway. 

“I’m fine Jon. I guess I was just tired.” She called out. Tormund began to stir at the noise but his eyes remained closed. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Tormund?” Jon went on. “A bird came this morning and I need to speak with him about the message.” 

“I’ll tell him if I see him.” Sansa called out. 

Tormund was fully awake now. He saw how he was sleeping half on top of Sansa and heard Jon speaking at the door but made no move to leave her bed. 

“And Sansa, there’s a message for you from Lady Dustin.” Jon went on. 

“I wish he’d shut the fuck up so a man could get some sleep.” Tormund muttered. Sansa responded with a giggle. 

“Are you alright Sansa?” Jon called out, hearing her laugh. 

Sansa choked back the rest of her laughter. “I’m fine Jon. Just give me time to dress and I’ll come to the solar to speak with you.” 

They heard Jon’s footsteps as he walked away. Sansa pulled her gaze from the door and looked up at Tormund who was still tangled up with her body. He was gazing at her intently. She could feel his hardness pressed against her hip. 

“Jon is waiting for me.” Sansa said in a near whisper, her heart was thumping in her chest. 

Tormund nodded and he let her go. Sansa rose to get dressed. Tormund took his axe from its place along the wall and left her chambers. Sansa sighed and smiled to herself when he was gone. Some part of her hadn’t wanted him to leave but she had needed to know that he would leave, even in that state, if she asked it of him. It meant a great deal to her to know now that he would. 

Tormund was already in Jon’s solar by the time Sansa arrived. Both men looked shaken. 

“What happened?” She asked them. Something was clearly wrong. 

“I’ve had a message from the Dreadfort.” Jon told her. 

“He wants me back?” Sansa said, though she really didn’t need to say it. She had known something like this was coming all along. 

“I’m sorry Sansa.” Jon said. “By law you are his wife. I should have expected he would make demands. He’s threatening to bring an army to get to get you back.” 

“What are you going to do?” She asked. 

“I’m going to fight of course. If you wanted to go back to him you would be there already. I’ll not send you back against your will.” Jon said. 

“I don’t want to go back to him...but how many men will die fighting over me if I don’t?” She asked. 

“I don’t know.” Jon said. 

“I already knew you don’t know anything.” Tormund commented. “But I know this, you can not let your sister go back to that monster. If you do, I’ll follow her there and put an axe in him myself.” 

“Why?” Jon asked. “Neither of you have told me why you hate Ramsay so much. Granted, I don’t like him. I hate what his father did, but what has he done to the two of you?” 

Sansa’s eyes met Tormund’s. “You can tell him.” She said. “I can’t do it. I’ll leave you two to speak on the matter.” Sansa went back to her chambers and paced the floor while the spoke. 

“She told you?” Jon asked his friend. “She told you what happened with her and Ramsay?” 

“Aye. Some of it I guessed and some of it she told me later. The man was never gentle with her. She was frightened enough when she married him, her being a maiden and him being an enemy of her house. And the fucking Bastard made your Greyjoy boy watch while he raped her that first night. He kept her locked in her room after that. If she befriended a servant he had them flayed. If she spoke a word against him he beat her for it. Nearly every night he raped her. She still has nightmares about what he did. Most nights I wake her from the dreams by knocking on the wall between our rooms….I think she’d sooner kill herself than go back to him.” 

Jon stood to his feet at Tormund’s words. “She’s not going back to him. We’ll take a small party of men and get into the Dreadfort somehow and kill him. It’s the only way to minimize the deaths and keep Sansa safe.” 

“Good.” 

“We’ll only need three of us. My sword, Cotter’s bow…” Jon began. 

“And my axe.” Tormund finished. 

Jon nodded. “You can tell Sansa. I’m going to find Cotter.” 

Tormund found Sansa pacing the floors of her room. The door was left open. “I told him. We’re going to take care of it.” 

“You’re going to try and sneak into the Dreadfort and kill him aren’t you?” She asked worriedly, stopping her pacing to stand directly in front of him. 

“He deserves to die.” 

“Don’t leave me.” She reached for his arm with one hand, her eyes filling with tears. “If he catches you, he will flay you...please...don’t…” 

His eyes narrowed. “You really don’t want me to leave?” 

She didn’t. She had lost so many people in the past few years. She wanted him to stay and she wanted him to sleep next to her again and she wanted to kiss him. She didn’t take time to think it through. She stepped closer to him and she reached up and kissed him. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled her close and kissed her in return. She had never been kissed like this in all of her life. His hands were on her backside, his tongue in her mouth, he was holding her so tight that her breasts were pressed against him, spilling out the bodice of her dress. And she had no desire to flee from him. The only desires she had were for things she hadn’t even known she was capable of. Jon found them like that some minutes later. The sound of him kicking open Sansa’s half open chamber door broke them apart. 

Jon stared in silent anger at the two of them for a moment before speaking. “Did you tell her?” He said to Tormund. 

“I did. She doesn’t think we should go.” Tormund said. 

“We? You’re going too Jon? You can’t!” Sansa exclaimed. 

“See?” Tormund shrugged. 

“It’s the only way.” Jon said sadly. “I can’t let you go back to him and I can’t have another war. We’ll be fine. We know a thing or two about how to kill.” 

“I do.” Tormund added. “But Jon doesn’t know anything.” 

“We leave tomorrow.” Jon said, ignoring the jest as usual. “I have a few more letters to write. Be ready.” He told Tormund and left them alone. 

When night fell and they retired to their rooms that evening, Sansa was sure that she didn’t want to be alone. “Will you stay with me again?” She asked Tormund when they arrived at their doors. 

The man hesitated. “That might not be such a good idea...after what happened today…” 

“I thought you would want it to happen again?” She said, more boldly than she was used to being. 

“I do, but I’m not sure I can stand stopping there.” 

Sansa took a few steps closer to him. “Then don’t stop there. You offered once to to show me how it’s supposed to be between a man and a woman. Show me.” 

Eyes filled with desire, he followed Sansa into her room and closed the door behind them. The room was dark. Sansa was trembling by the time she climbed into the bed next to Tormund wearing only a thin shift. She wanted to be with him and some part of her was afraid that it would be nothing like he claimed it would. 

“Are you afraid?” He asked her, his hand on her trembling arm. 

“Yes, but I don’t want to be.” 

“Come here. We’ll go slowly.” He pulled her close to him and began to rub small circles on her back. He felt her begin to relax and then he kissed her, slowly and gently. She liked the feeling of his arms around her, his lips against her own, and though she had never cared to explore a man’s body before, she found herself reaching for him. Her hands ghosted over whatever skin she could reach of the shirtless man in her bed. His hands were caressing up and down her body as he kissed her. She had never known that something so simple as a man brushing his hand across her breast could be so blissful. She didn’t want it to end. Then he stopped touching her to loosen the tie on his breeches and let his swollen member free. He reached for her hand and placed it on his manhood. Her touch was awkward and inexperienced. 

“Like this.” He showed her what to do with his own hand. She reached for him and did as he asked. She felt no pressure or coercion at his request like she might have if Ramsay made it. She simply did as he asked because she wanted to please him and because she was curious. His stories had not been so exaggerated as she had thought. He was a large man. He let out a groan of pleasure as she began to stroke him and he reached for her again, his hand settling between her thighs. “If you want me to stop, just say so.” He said and he moved his hand to feel her woman’s place. 

Sansa bit back a moment of panic when he touched her there but he shifted position so that he could gently nibble at one of her breasts and all thoughts of panic left her at the new sensation. His thumb rubbed across her nub and a moan escaped her unbidden. He repeated the movement and she cried out again. She forgot to keep stroking him she became so distracted by what he was doing to her. She felt as if she were coming unraveled somehow and she wanted nothing more than to be undone by this man, whatever that meant. Then he moved his hand and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her on top of him. His hardened manhood was pressed against her lower belly. 

“Just climb on.” He told her but the words were all but begging. 

She only hesitated a moment. She straddled him and lowered herself onto his throbbing member. He took her by the hips and guided her movements, unable to stop his groans of pleasure as he did so. She soon found her own pleasure in the movement and forgot all else except for the two of them in that room and the feel of him inside her. 

“You were right.” She whispered to him afterwards as they lay cuddled together. “It was unfair that I didn’t know about any of that.” 

“Aye.” He agreed and fell asleep long before she did. 

They woke in the morning to the sound of Jon pounding on the door to Sansa’s chambers. 

“Sansa? Are you awake?” Jon yelled, his tone was angry. “Where’s Tormund? If he’s in there with you I will-”

“You’ll what?” Tormund yelled back. He climbed out of bed still unclothed and wrenched the door open. “What are you going to do about it Jon Snow? She was willing enough. I haven’t hurt your sister.” 

“He’s telling the truth.” Sansa said from the bed where she had done her best to cover herself with blankets. “I invited him here.” 

Jon took one look at the two of them. His pretty sister trying to hide modestly in the bed and his unkempt wildling friend standing unashamedly naked in the doorway and Jon burst out laughing. It was so ridiculous that it actually made sense. 

“What?” They both tried to ask. 

“Just forget it.” Jon said, barely stopping his laughter. “We’re leaving in an hour Tormund. Be ready.” 

It was difficult for Sansa to say goodbye to the two men that she cared most about in the world. Nothing she said could dissuade them from their plan. They wouldn’t hear of letting her go back to Ramsay to save them. Even Cotter, a man she barely knew, was willing to risk himself to go on this quest. So amidst her tears they left her at the gates of Winterfell and rode off towards the Dreadfort. 

Two moons passed. Two moons of worrying and praying that they would survive. Then a bird came for Sansa. 

My Dear Wife,  
Your Bastard brother and his friends almost succeeded in murdering me. I have several stab wounds to prove it. I also have your brother and his friends in a cell of my dungeon. Return to me dear wife and I might let them live and keep most of their fingers.  
Your Loving Husband, Ramsay 

Trembling, Sansa dropped the parchment to the floor. There was only one thing left she could do. She would have to return and hope that Ramsay would keep his word. He did let Theon live. Unless...she had an idea. Only a maester could help her with this. Jon’s friend and newly trained Maester had arrived a fortnight ago. Sansa picked up the paper again and rushed to his chambers to speak with Sam. 

She pounded on the door of his chambers and when he didn’t come right away she started yelling frantically. “Sam!! Sam!! I need your help! I know you’re in there!” 

Moments later the door opened and Sam stuck his head out. Sansa caught glimpse of Gilly behind him hurrying to put clothes on. “Oh. Sorry.” Sansa said, flushing. 

“Just give us a moment.” Sam said with a grin and he shut the door again. 

When Sam finally did open his door to her, Sansa had composed herself and was no longer panicked. 

“So what is it you need my help with? Are you sick?” Sam asked. Sansa handed over the letter from Ramsay. Sam’s face paled as he read it. “This is bad. This is very bad. But I’m not a hero. I don’t know what I can do about it.” 

“There is only one thing to do.” Sansa said, resolved to go through with it. “Can you teach me about poison?” 

**********************

Sansa dismounted her horse and walked up to the gates of the Dreadfort alone. Her guards, Jon’s men at arms really, were reluctant to let her go alone but she had insisted. No one else would die or be harmed for her sake. She willed her hands to stop shaking as the gates were opened ahead of her. She couldn’t let him know how afraid she was. The only way this would work was for her to do it right away as soon as she greeted Ramsay. After that he would have her searched for weapons or take away all of her belongings. She knew him well enough to expect that. 

He was there in the courtyard, smiling. The gates closed behind her and it was a struggle to bite back her terror. 

“You have returned to me wife.” Ramsay said, not moving from where he stood. 

“I have, as is my duty.” She said evenly. 

“Duty? Yes, you Starks know a great deal about duty, don’t you?” He said taking a few steps closer to her. She forced herself to stay still and not take a step back from him. He was close to her now, his hands on her shoulders. “You haven’t seen your husband in months. It is your duty to greet him with a kiss.” 

Sansa nodded. The moment had come. She had known that Ramsay would greet her with a display of affection. She had known that it might be the only opportunity she would have. Sam had helped her to hide poison in four different places on her person. In the pendant of her necklace, the ring she wore on her finger, on one of her hairpins, and a vial in the heel of her boot. All she had to do was actually kiss Ramsay like she meant it. That would distract him long enough to prick him with the deadly poison. She reached up and met his lips. She remembered how Tormund had kissed her and so she kissed him like that. Her body pressed close to him, her tongue in his mouth, her bosom spilling out of her dress. He didn’t notice her pulling her hairpin from her hair. He barely noticed the prick on the back of his neck. He pulled away from her, delight and shock in his eyes. 

“You have been busy while you were away from me little wife.” He said almost with amusement. “Someone has taught you how to kiss.” 

“Someone did.” She said. “And he was far better at it than you.” 

Furious, Ramsay’s hands came around her her neck. He started to squeeze, then he changed his mind and she could see he was struggling to reign in his temper. “Tell me his name so that I can defend your honor, m’lady.” 

“I’m afraid there won’t be time for that my lord.” Sansa said, then added, “Your neck is bleeding.” 

Startled, Ramsay reached for the back of his neck and felt a few drops of blood there. He gazed at the blood on his fingers. “What did you do?” 

“My duty. I’m good at that.” She said and she took a step back from him as he tried to lunge at her. The poison was acting already and he only managed to fall to his knees. She left him there and started towards the door of the castle. None of Ramsay’s guards tried to stop her. None of them tried to help their master who was dying in the courtyard. Sansa did not even spare him a second glance. One of the maids told her where to find the dungeons. 

“Sansa?” Jon called out on seeing her enter the dungeons carrying a torch. “What are you doing here?” 

She found the keys to the cells hanging on the wall and she rushed to open the cells. Jon looked to be in bad shape, as did Tormund and Cotter, but no one was missing any limbs or digits that she could see. At least they were all alive. 

“What are you doing here?” Jon repeated as she hugged him. 

“Rescuing you.” She said, allowing herself a smile at the irony. “Ramsay is dead.” 

“You killed that bastard?” Tormund asked with disbelief. 

“Well he might not be dead just yet.” She clarified. “Sam says the poison takes about twelve minutes. If you hurry you can use your axe on him.” 

They found their weapons in the armory just outside the dungeons but by the time they reached Ramsay in the courtyard he was already dead. Tormund lifted his axe and swung it at Ramsay’s face, burying it it deep. Sansa only flinched. 

“Just to be sure.” Tormund said as explanation. 

They buried Ramsay in one of the gardens and prepared to leave. They started towards the gates and one of the servants came running after them. “My lady, wait! You’re the lady of the Dreadfort now. You can’t leave.” 

“I doubt the king will let me stay if he finds out I’ve murdered my husband.” Sansa said, realizing in that moment that she wasn’t even sure how she would escape the king’s justice at this point. 

“Murdered?” The old servant said. “Ramsay had an accident chopping wood. We all saw it. Didn’t we?” 

Sansa looked around the courtyard and saw that all the servants were nodding their agreement and murmuring, “Yes an accident. It was horrible. Terrible tragedy. He was working so hard to chop that wood.” 

She had always wanted to be the lady of a Castle. Winterfell belonged to Jon though. She wouldn’t stay here alone. She couldn’t. “Tormund, what do you think of this castle?” She asked him. 

He took a look around. “It’s not so bad as far as castles go. Might be I’d like to live in it.” 

Jon didn’t protest their kissing this time. He just shook his head. “I’ll not leave you here with my sister unless you agree to marry her.” He finally interrupted them. 

“And if I do, that makes me Lord of the Castle?” Tormund asked. 

“It does.” Jon said. 

“That might not be so bad either.” Tormund said. “That might not be so bad at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked reading this, please read my original story, The Sword and The Cross in the Arthurian Legends Fandom.


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